Last night I had a visit from my paternal grandfather. I was surprised to see him, seeing as how he died in 1967. He was my favorite grandparent, kindly and full of stories. He looked just as I remembered him—wiry build, thick shock of white hair, face lined with wrinkles.

John D. (Jack) Elder was a systems engineer for the old Michigan Central Railroad and was stationed in my hometown of Niles, Michigan. In his college days he was the shortstop on the Penn State baseball team. He was also the starting quarterback on the Penn State football team in 1902 and 1903. That is what occasioned his visit.

The old man eased himself gingerly into the recliner next to my desk. “Steve, what in hell is going on at my alma mater?” he inquired delicately.

“I’m not sure, Grandpa,” I replied. “All I know is what I see on TV and read in the papers.”

“How reliable is that?”

“Like back in the day. The slant of the news depends on the slant of the newscaster.”

“Some things don’t change,” he observed. “Anyway, there have always been men who have buggered boys. What I don’t understand is how it was handled—by both the guy who reported it and my school. In my day we would have tarred and feathered the bugger and run him out of town on a rail.”

“That’s called rushing to judgment nowadays, Grandpa,” I replied. “I think quite a few people would approve of your approach, but things have changed. We protect the rights of the accused as zealously as the rights of the victim, even when we think the accused doesn’t deserve to have these rights. Lawyers have become extremely powerful. They instill mortal terror in people.”  

“Sounds more like social cowardice to me. So, it took twelve years to report it?”

“Apparently. A lot of people are asking that same question.”

The old man hoisted himself out of the chair, every joint popping, and parted with, “Frankly, son, I’m glad I was long gone before this happened. It’s very disappointing.”

With that, he faded back into the safety of eternity. I am now almost as old as my grandfather was when he died. I’ve thought about his words all day. I think I understand how he feels. I mean, about the ‘glad to be gone’ part.